


Honeymoon

by OverwatchingYouSleep



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Blood, Confinement, F/M, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slasher: 76, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 13:24:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16285403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverwatchingYouSleep/pseuds/OverwatchingYouSleep
Summary: Do you swear to love me forever and ever?





	Honeymoon

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyy this was a spur of the moment thing and I'm up too late to do a proper proofread so forgive any errors you stumble on. Also I think this is the first Slasher 76 fic on Ao3? I would be so proud to have that honor.
> 
> Mind the tags and enjoy ;)

Jack always expected a fight. Humans are survivors by default, it was simply in their nature as it was all creatures. They ran, and when Jack ran faster they fended against him with whatever they had brought with them. A pocket knife, a handgun, their bare hands. Rarely did he find someone that submitted to a violent death so willingly.

 

You were different. You had given up almost instantly. When he stormed upon your camping group, you had hidden in your tent. He had watched you do it, and after he took care of the rest of your friends he tore through the flimsy fabric. You didn't scream, attack him with your metal thermos. No, instead you curled into a ball, holding your hands in front of you as your last line of defense. 

 

He had a cellar he had gotten no use out of in a while. There was no reason why not. Those were the only justifications for him seizing you from your campsite, you had only been unlucky that he had thought of it at that moment. 

 

And you never fought him on the way back to his cabin. You let him chain a collar to your neck when he got you downstairs.  You let him feed you, let him talk to you and, when he finally realized he had no intent in his shriveled heart to kill you any time soon, you let him pet your hair in affection. Days turned to weeks, and he finally moved you upstairs, the chain attached to your collar tied to a wooden support beam between the rudimentary kitchen and tiny living room. 

 

In a way, he was disappointed. He had grown so used to violence, used it against every living being he came across for years. But he couldn't force himself to do it, not when you didn't give him a reason to. But in another sense, he couldn't bring himself to complain about your doe eyes, your trembling compliance and submission. It gave the predator in him a great thrill, and he found his mind easing towards the type of unsavory thoughts that didn't cross them often.

 

But Jack had been a good Christian boy once. From all the values he shirked, he maintained one even though he never dreamed it would apply to him. He wanted to marry you first. 

 

Of course, he also had manners, and it was rude to ask so soon. He wanted to prove to you that he was a man worth marrying. Sometimes when he patrolled the woods he would bring home a small handful of wildflowers. At night he would unclip your collar, bringing you to his worn bed and holding you in his arms while you both slept. Small, inconsequential things.

 

Then, one day, you asked him for something.

 

"Can I have a bath?" 76 looked over from the kitchen counter, a half-skinned rabbit in his hands. You were curled up on his ancient sofa, but your eyes were on him. "I want to wash my hair."

 

For weeks he had gotten nothing more than one word answers out of you, an "okay" that signalled compliance or a "thanks" when he brought you a meal. He was off-put, but more than that he was excited to give you something you wanted; an act that would surely warm you up to him more than the menial gestures he had performed so far.

 

So in a remote cabin with no running water, he went to work. Bucket after bucket of water boiled over two different fires. He pulled out the large metal tub he couldn't remember ever using and washed the cobwebs out. It all came together into a hot bath in the cellar, the water just above steaming hot when he brought you downstairs, a towel slung over his shoulders. When he saw your exhausted eyes light up it nearly sent him into the clouds.

 

"I went through some backpacks--" Jack cut himself off, trying to slow his racing thoughts. He couldn't bring up your friends. That would ruin this moment. "...and I found a small bottle of shampoo, and some soap."

 

"Thank you," you murmured. Jack's heart couldn't swell, instead there was a pulsing ache in his chest that he relished. A small change, ‘thanks’ to ‘thank you’, but it signalled everything to him. You could grow to love him, with time. With patience.

 

"Better get in while the water's warm," 76 said, stepping in front of you and pulling a stool from the wall to the edge of the tub. He took his seat, and when he looked back at you he found you staring back, completely unmoved. Beneath his mask, his excitement turned to confusion. "What is it?"

 

"Could..." you started, then shook your head. "Nevermind, I'm okay."

 

Still afraid then. That was natural, of course, for prey. He would help you see past it. 

 

You turned before you began undressing, so Jack choose to avert his eyes. Instead he readied himself, removing his gloves and shrugging his jacket off. With his arms completely bare, he skimmed the water with his fingertips, twitching at how the contrast between his cold skin and the water stung him. But he pressed forward, until his hands were submerged and warming to a color almost approaching alive.

 

He looked back at you, his eyes falling downward first to your wobblings knees, like you were having a hard time remembering how to balance. But your bare legs alone sent chills down his spine. He could barely bring himself to look up, but when he did his breath escaped in a heavy orange huff. It was everything he had dreamed of and more. You were obviously uncomfortable, arms crossed over your chest, and Jack realized he was staring.

 

He quickly adjusted how he sat, gesturing to the tub. "Please."

 

You rushed to the edge of the tub, throwing your leg in and scrunching your face together in discomfort. But with a moment of adjusting, you brought the rest of your body below the surface. When you settled, you had your back to 76. "Shampoo please."

 

It spilled from your lips in an instant, so quick it took Jack a second to realize what it was. He picked up the travel-size bottle from the floor beside the tub, twisting the cap off and placing it in your open hand. You tipped it over and dumped a generous portion in your palm, then submerged your head completely to wet your hair. Jack watched your thighs rise out of the water, rubbing his palm along the inseam of his jeans. 

 

He had to behave. The honeymoon had to be special.

 

You emerged again, not even waiting to catch your breath before you were massaging the shampoo into your scalp, foaming into tight bubbles. So you wanted this to be over as soon as possible; Jack knew that much. Though it was hard to tear his eyes from the water rolling down your back, he eyed the second bottle on the floor, this one was a soft green. He found himself picking it up, popping the cap open and taking another whiff. The piney scent would be lovely on you; he would be able to smell it on you all night when he held you in his arms. 

 

You submerged again, this time to wash the suds out of your hair. 76's mouth twitched into a crooked, almost nervous smile as he thought of what he wanted to do. But he had willpower. He could control himself. He squeezed some of the body wash in his palm, rubbing it between both hands when you reappeared. While you wiped the water out of your eyes, Jack's hands circled around your torso, gently brushing over your ribcage. 

 

You shuddered, but as always you didn't resist. Jack was starting to really like that about you. It was different. He liked that he could run his hands over your skin without you squirming, and when his hands moved up and over the curve of your breast, you answered with a gasp instead of a scream. Palms circled over the plump flesh, your nipples sliding beneath his fingers as he cleaned the months worth of grime off of you. He didn't want to linger (Well, he DID, but--) so he moved on quickly, running his hands up over your shoulders and down your arms. By the time he got to your back the vein on his neck was visibly strained.

 

"Up on your knees," Jack commanded softly when his hands reached the waters edge. Without a sound you pulled yourself up, the water dripping off of you and down to the top of your thighs, where the surface was now. Jack admired the new view for a moment through the haze of orange smoke that streamed out of his mask, then moved on down your lower back.

 

_ So beautiful. _ He bit his lip, trying and failing to pull his eyes away when his hands slide over the curve of your ass.  _ And so obedient. It's like she was made for me.  _

 

It only took the faintest brush of his fingertips against your kitten to make you quiver, and in an incensed instant Jack's eyes darted to the bed in the dark corner. His need finally outmatched his restraint. He  _ had _ to have you. 

 

His hands found your hips and pulled you from the tub before you could get a gasp out, and you instinctively seized up at the cold cellar air hit your wet skin. Jack held you close to him, crossing the basement in three quick steps and dropping you on the mattress without grace. The pillows were flat, the sheets were old, and this was certainly no five-star hotel in Hawaii. But for Jack, it would do.

 

Jack found your wrists and pinned them to the mattress, looking down into your terrified eyes. Your trembling, your goosebumps, it was hard to tell whether it was more the fault of the chill in the room or your fear, but what Jack did know was that it excited him beyond words. His pants were getting too tight to keep wasting time. His eyes boring into yours, he slowly moved his hand from your left wrist to the fly of his jeans. At the sound of it unzipping, you took a stuttering inhale. 

 

"Turn over," Jack growled, husky with desire. He let go of you and you did as you were told, grabbing a pillow to bury your face in while you bent over the bed frame. Jack watched you get into position with his cock in his still-warm hand, massaging it until precum dribbled off the swollen tip. He could feel his moral compass, broken and dysfunctional as it was, screaming at him to stop, to do things right, but he had disobeyed it so many times before it was like habit. With an unabashed grunt, Jack plunged himself as deep inside of you as he could get, hips flush against your flesh.

 

And you _ screamed. _ Loud, pained, like a scared animal. Jack had been dreading the sound of your scream but now it sent blood flowing through him, setting his post-mortem muscles alive with desire unlike anything he had felt before. He grabbed a tight hold on your hips and began to drive into you without mercy. At some point you started to bleed, started to cry, but it only fueled his lust-driven rage further.

 

When your screams finally began to soften into groans and sobs, Jack slowed down and reached up to remove his mask. There was no more appropriate time for it than this. It clattered to the floor, and Jack immediately pressed his body against your back, his grayed-out tongue pressed against your damp neck and sliding up to your earlobe. You pressed your face into the pillow to muffle your sobbing.

 

"I'm going to cum," Jack whispered in your ear before his tongue went back to committing the taste of your soft neck to memory. You let out a particularly wavey sob, but otherwise didn't respond. Like your bath, you were probably only anxious for it to be over, not thinking of how this is always going to be your life from now on. Especially now that Jack was finally going to make you his. 

 

He pressed his lips to your shoulder, taking a deep inhale of the foresty scent he would forever associate with this moment. He choked out a series of harsh breaths, and his fingers dug deep into the flesh of your sides as his body released decades of slow building tension inside of you.

 

He was spent from his orgasm long before it was over, his thick cock pumping spray after spray of cum inside of you until you could feel the physical heat of it pooling in your gut. Or maybe that was the blood. Jack continued to lazily shift his hips, unearthly eyes glancing over the bed, then at the end table, where a single drawer sat undisturbed. As his bliss began to subside, his mind slowly rolled into his old vices, his familiar ones.

 

He didn't have a ring to give you, to show proof that you belonged to him now. That would have to change. 

 

You didn't react when Jack opened the drawer, or when he came back to hover over you. No, you didn't give him a reaction until he pressed his forearm down on the center of your back, his pocketknife sliding over the flesh just above your left hip. You tried to scream again, but your throat was so broken that you cried instead, banging your fists uselessly on the bed. Too helpless to properly struggle. You were so lucky that he found you; what else would a helpless creature like you do if left to fend for yourself? You  _ needed _ him. 

 

The project was strenuous, long enough for you to get tired of struggling, then get a second and third wind, Jack holding you steady through all of it. He brushed blood away with every slice, staining the flesh around his cuts red along with his fingers. But finally, with a single curved slice, Jack's masterpiece was finished, and Jack licked along the bloody blade as he admired his work.

 

**'JUST MARRIED'**

**Author's Note:**

> More like this @the-yandere-cryptid.tumblr.com


End file.
